


The Stars My Destination

by R_Gunns



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5 Times, F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:28:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Gunns/pseuds/R_Gunns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: five first meetings and a first kiss.</p><p>Nyota pulled her bag from the chair beside her, gesturing for Carol to sit before turning back to her PADD and closing the language program she had been distracted from. “We haven’t officially met; I’m Nyota Uhura, communications officer for the enterprise.”</p><p>“Carol Marcus, molecular biologist.”</p><p>(Or alternatively- there are not enough terrible cliche'd cheesy fics with lesbians so I wrote one.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stars My Destination

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a book of the same name. 
> 
> So this is me saying fuck it- I've had the first four parts written for months, but what with various real life difficulties (including exam results and starting university) I haven't gotten round to finishing the last two parts (though I've written a tiny bit of both). So I'm really sorry but I am posting this unfinished till I get the time to finish it. Anyway. This is for [rectumofglory](http://rectumofglory.tumblr.com), who seems to want Carol/Nyota almost as much as I do. I've made a playlist of the songs I listened to on repeat whilst writing each part, so feel free to listen (or don't) while you read.  
> Oh also, quick word of warning, there's a mention of Spock/Kirk in part I, but it's only a tiny bit.

Listen [here. ](http://8tracks.com/gunsintheground/the-stars-my-destination/)

 

I.

Nyota smiled fondly, watching Kirk laugh at something Spock had said -undoubtedly a thinly veiled joke directed at Jim, with the singular intention to make him laugh- she couldn’t remember when Spock had started doing that, but it had become a common occurrence to see Kirk walking through enterprise laughing delightedly, Spock half a step behind him.

She and Spock had terminated their relationship amiably, in the weeks following the incident with Khan. She’d worried about losing his friendship briefly, but instead found that they maintained the same relationship they had previously, allowing her to focus more on her work (and trying to conquer the dead language of Calion VII), and for Spock to perhaps pursue a relationship with his captain, though she is unsure whether he is aware of that yet. She is startled out of her musing when she hears a polite cough to her right and looks up sharply. Carol Marcus, now officially part of the Enterprise crew, is already dressed in her uniform despite take off* not being for another few hours, choosing to forgo the blue dress and instead opting for the traditional shirt and pants. Carol nodded toward the PADD in Nyota’s hands.

“Are you busy?” She asked, waving a hand at the PADD. Nyota isn’t sure why she wants to talk, but isn’t opposed to getting to know new crew, especially considering how much she’s heard about Carol Marcus, and how little she truly knows about her.

“No, not at all.” Nyota pulled her bag from the chair beside her, gesturing for Carol to sit before turning back to her PADD and closing the language program she had been distracted from. “We haven’t officially met; I’m Nyota Uhura, communications officer for the enterprise.”

“Carol Marcus, molecular biologist.” She reached out a hand to shake; Nyota took it.

“You’ll be working with Spock and Leonard, right?” she asked, watching Carol’s eyes crinkle as she smiled.

“Yes and the rest of the science crew, though I’m sure their particular brand of friendship is going to be entertaining.” That startled a laugh out of Nyota, who’d not heard anyone use the word friendship as a descriptor for Spock and Leonard’s interactions.

“Sure, but I’m not sure I would call it friendship exactly.”

“No, maybe not, though-” The sound of a communicator beeping prevented her from saying anything else, and Carol smiled apologetically, reaching into her bag and pulling it out. She sighed at the name on the screen and stood.

“I’m sorry; apparently I have more paperwork to sign before I can leave, inheritance and so on. I’ll see you soon?” She asked, pulling her bag over her shoulder and quickly typing out a message into her communicator.

“Sure,” Nyota said, “Good luck with your paperwork.” Carol rolled her eyes, smiling, and pocketed her communicator.

 “Thank you.”

 

II.

Nyota squinted up at the stars, trying to make out constellations above her and thinking regretfully of her contacts back at home. She fumbled around to her left, fingers finally grabbing a half empty beer can so she could chug the last of it and let it fall back against the grass. Her stomach was rolling in anticipation, and she felt jittery thinking about tomorrow when she’d be moving out, going to Starfleet. It wasn’t that she was getting cold feet, or that she didn’t feel she was good enough (she knew she was, she’d already mastered four Terran languages, and basic Andorian), but the idea of moving and having no one, not even her family was daunting.

She grabbed a cigar from her purse, suddenly desperately craving the feel of heavy smoke hitting the back of her throat. She was digging around in her pockets for matches when someone sat down beside her. She looked up, and her eyes widened. A blonde girl, looking tired (but still managing to be absolutely stunning) sat beside her holding out a lighter. Nyota took it.

“So, cigars. Kinda weird.” The girl said. Nyota finally managed to light the damn thing without the flame going out first then gave back the lighter.

“Stole it from my dad’s office. I used to nick them every so often just to, I don’t know, rebel or whatever. But I got a taste for them. Want to try?” She held the cigar out in front of her, watched as the girl took it delicately between her thumb and forefinger, inhaling a little then immediately coughing, handing the cigar back and making a grab for one of the beer cans on the floor. Nyota took the cigar back, laughing and taking a drag herself before patting the girl on the back.

“It’s an acquired taste. I’m Nyota by the way.”

The girl smiled, eyes watering a little. She finally said, “Carol Marcus, and that was awful. Remind me never to try one again.” Carol smoothed a hand over her hair and set the beer on the ground, then turned back to Nyota. “So why are you out here on your own when the graduation party is inside?”

Nyota shrugged, fiddling with some grass. “Wanted to be alone I guess. I’m not that interested in- I mean, I don’t really know anyone that well. I only moved here last year.”

“And where are you going?”

Nyota cracked a smile, still a little breathless after opening the letter confirming her place earlier. “Starfleet Academy, to study linguistics. You?” Carol sat up, bouncing a little on her knees and grinning back.

"So am I! I’m studying molecular biology, getting a shuttle tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s great! I was worried about not knowing anyone else going but-”

“We’ll have to meet up then, or go together?”

“Definitely. Give me your communicator; I’ll put in my number.” Carol handed over her phone and Nyota typed up her number and saved it, quickly sending a text to herself. She glanced at the time on Carol’s communicator then blanched.

“Shit, okay, I have to get back sometime before my dad gets up for work, so I’ll text you? We can meet at the gates?”

“Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” They both stood, Nyota pulling her bag over her shoulder and grabbing the empty beer cans littered around her, Carol fiddling with her phone. Nyota nodded, and they lapsed into silence, till Carol reached out and brushed her fingers briefly along Nyota’s arm, then said, “It was nice to meet you Nyota.”

Later, when she was finishing the last of her packing at home, she thought back to that night- or, early morning- and Carol’s fingers on her arm, and suddenly didn’t feel quite so worried.

 

III.

Nyota passed her last exam, meaning that within the next 3 months she’d be assigned to a ship and a five year mission exploring space. If nothing else, that deserved a celebration. So she’d ditched her friends (who hadn’t finished their last exams yet and were either sleeping or crying over textbooks), bypassing the student bar that most cadets preferred and headed out to El Rio instead, intending to get drunk and dance a lot.

She’d been there long enough to down a few shots of Jack Daniel’s and find a couple of pretty boys covered in glitter to dance with when she spotted Harvey, an asshole from her track club, leering over a girl by the bar. She would’ve left it if the girl had looked at all interested in meaty paw on her thigh, but she was casting furtive glances around the room, obviously looking for a way out, and

Nyota was so done with his shit. Why the hell he thought he’d try and pick up girls in a gay club anyway was beyond her. She quickly excused herself from the boys she’d been dancing with and made her way over to the bar, running through scenarios in her head.

As much as she’d like to pointedly ask ‘is this guy bothering you?’ she didn’t want to start something she couldn’t finish, and she had to deal with the guy twice a week at track so punching him wouldn’t be a good idea either. She caught the girl’s eyes as she came up to the bar, smiling widely and hoping that she’d go along with it, she wedged herself between a rock and a hard place (ha, pun intended), reached for the girls hands and said loud enough for Harvey to hear,

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, come and dance with me!” The girl caught on quickly. Holding Nyota’s hands in a tight grip, she hopped off her bar stool and started to walk backward toward the dance floor, pulling Nyota with her and calling back to Harvey,

“Sorry, my girlfriend’s here! Have a nice night!” They quickly made their way into the centre of the crowd, Nyota only looking back once to see Harvey looking woefully dejected, and burst out laughing. She turned back to the girl and pulled her in closer, holding their joint hands up a little to dance.

“You could not have come at a better time, that guy is an absolute dick!” Nyota nodded, rolling her eyes.

“No problem, he’s in my track club and apparently doesn’t understand the definition of no,” she leant in closer, trying to be heard over the music, “I’m Nyota!”

“Carol! Nice to meet you, though it sucks that making up significant others is the only way to escape guys like that.”

“Totally. Were you planning on leaving or do you-” Carol let go of her right hand, placing it on Nyota’s waist and shaking her head.

“No, we can dance.” They did, for a while, and suddenly Nyota was glad she’d come here alone tonight, because there would’ve been no way her friends would have let her dance half the night without trying to join in and effectively cock-blocking her, the dicks. As the club began to get busier and the floor filled with more people they moved closer together, close enough to brush against each other every time they moved, and Carol’s eyes caught her own, hand sliding down Nyota’s lower back and she –very deliberately- rolled her hips. Nyota laughed breathlessly, thinking momentarily of her roommate studying for her final tomorrow and had barely gotten out the words,

“Your place?” before Carol had grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door.

 

IV.

The funeral for Admiral Marcus was an awkward affair. Starfleet had never experienced a betrayal quite like this one; never had someone so high up in rank do something so devastating as to go against the very principles they enforce?. Coupled with the fact that until recently Alexander Marcus had been a good Admiral that many people had admired, it led to a lot of confusion on how he should be ‘honoured’. Plenty of people claimed that what he’d attempted to do was needed, that the impending war between Starfleet and the Klingons meant militarisation was necessary to survive; the unfortunate choices he made that led to the death of not just Admiral Pike and James T Kirk, but a large number of the public as well were just that- unfortunate choices. The general opinion however seemed to be unanimous: strip him of any medals and awards, take away the title, and let his family do whatever they want with him.

This meant that Carol Marcus, his only living relative, was expected to organise a funeral that no one would attend. The public were kept away for security reasons, and Starfleet were doing their best to pretend he never existed, so when the day finally came Carol would be watching the (standard, brown. No flags in sight.) coffin lower into the ground on her own.

“Fuck that. No- listen, I know that anyone associated with starfleet is being told to steer clear of anything to do with the admiral, but it’s not like I’m on the front pages of magazines,” Nyota shifted her communicator so it was pressed between her shoulder and ear, setting the PADD she’d been reading down next to her. “Not like you, pretty boy. Anyway, the public won’t recognise me without my uniform, and regardless of what he did, Marcus was her father. If anyone higher up notices pretend you didn’t know, I’ll deal with it.” There was a brief silence at the other end of the communicator, and Nyota worried she’d been maybe a little too contentious for her own good till Kirk barked out a surprised laugh.

“What you do on your shore leave is your own business, lieutenant. I’ll see you on the bridge. Kirk out.”

Nyota breathed out a sigh of relief, glad that he’d agreed: she would’ve gone regardless, but having Kirk supporting her decision was better. Now she needed to find something to wear.

  
*

The thing about learning languages, specifically those of non-Terran species, is that body language is just as important as words and inflections when attempting fluency. So Nyota is well versed in body language, meaning that when she spotted Carol standing at the grave as her father's coffin was lowered into the ground, seemingly unaffected, Nyota knew better. She saw the slight shake in Carol’s hands, the way she chewed the inside of her cheek, the slight up-tilt of her chin that meant she was avoiding looking directly at the coffin. Nyota couldn’t imagine ever being in a situation like this, not being able to mourn her own father for fear of seeming to sympathise with him. Nyota, and evidently Carol, knew that all eyes were on her now; the public, yes, but also Starfleet, looking for any signs that she’d follow in her fathers footsteps.

Nyota picked her way around the headstones, trying to avoid standing on any graves, and came up to Carol’s side, just as she turned her head and saw her, eyes widening in surprise, then recognition.

“You’re Nyota Uhura,” It was more of a statement than a question, but Nyota nodded anyway, “I didn’t think they would send any representatives from Starfleet. To be honest I thought they were trying to avoid their involvement entirely.” She didn’t cover her irritation with Starfleet at all, obviously angry about their continued denial that they were in any way involved. Nyota smiled grimly,

“They didn’t send a representative actually. We are all under strict orders not to associate ourselves with you or your father in any way. But,” Nyota shrugged, eyed the tombstone marked Alexander Marcus, Loving husband and father. “I know I wouldn’t want to be alone at a funeral.” Carol relaxed minutely, shoulders falling, but laughed bitterly,

“Of course they wouldn’t. Why acknowledge my father’s betrayal, or the possibility that he could have followers within Starfleet when they can pretend the whole thing didn’t happen.” She fiddled with her purse strap, shook her head. “Sorry. Thank you for coming, I appreciate it. I’m just not very good company to be around right now, don’t even have work to focus on.”

“They fired you?”

“No, no. Paid leave to keep me away from Starfleet for a while, under the guise of sick pay or something, I didn’t listen.” They lapsed into silence, both staring at the open grave in front of them.

“Do you want to get a drink? There’s a bar around the corner and-” Nyota trailed off as Carol smiled, a real smile this time, not tainted with bitterness.

“I’d love to.”

 

V.

Nyota was in Arles, France on Shore Leave. She’d been exploring the usual tourist attractions; L’Espace Van Gogh and the Arles Amphitheatre that day in particular, when she’d briefly lost track of where she was going and ended up half-lost in a public garden. She wandered for a while, not entirely bothered about righting her path, too busy soaking in the feel of a natural environment after half a year of recycled air on the enterprise. Technology had developed enough that the air on board was an even mix between the air that the 14 different species in the crew were adapted to, meaning that they could seamlessly integrate crew members from a number of races on any Starfleet vessel without causing any harm. It just meant that natural air was that much more refreshing when you had the time to relish in it.

She eyed some wild flowers by her feet, remembered seeing similar ones in Sulu’s collection, but debated bringing them back regardless- Sulu would never turn down a new plant to study, and she didn’t think he had the french variation of the flower regardless. She’d tipped the contents of a shopping bag into her purse and crouched down to pull up the flowers when she heard a voice to her right, [UNFINISHED]

 

VI.

The first time they met Carol had barely been able to walk, even with Scotty and Jim holding her between them. They had handed her over to Uhura and a nearby nurse to settle her on a bed while her leg was treated, and Carol had sat and stared and not moved till Uhura had made to leave, and then she had wrapped her hand round Uhura’s wrist and not let go till she’d fallen asleep.

When they next saw each other Jim Kirk was dead. Leonard had already injected him with Khan’s blood by then, but they had no idea if it would work on a human body, let alone one that was destroyed by radiation. It felt like they were suspended in time; they’d already landed safely and should have been filtering out of the ship for mandatory leave, but instead most of the crew stayed on the ship, starting on repairs or helping the wounded, but none of them could leave, not until they knew if it had worked- knew that Jim had survived.

With no need for any communications officers, Nyota found herself in the Sickbay again, by Carol Marcus’ bed. She was sleeping, leg propped up in a cast so it could heal; the break was too severe for any Osteogenic stimulator to help, [UNFINISHED]

**Author's Note:**

> Some things you should know: First, I'm English, so anything about the ol' USA is googled (including the gay club name, real place), and you can inform me of any stray Briticisms I've missed.
> 
> I apologise for this being terrible because my writing is a so goddamn rusty and obviously I don't have any Nyota/Carol interactions from reboot canon to work off of. Lastly, the alternate universes are all only ever so slightly alternate, working with the idea that all roads lead to the same place; Starfleet (and Nyota & Carol banging, apparently...look out for a continuation of part III if I ever finish this).


End file.
